


Time Makes You Bolder

by pantheon_of_discord



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, POV Castiel, S13 REUNION FLUFF BECAUSE WE NEED IT, Season/Series 13, Season/Series 13 Speculation, about Dean's anger issues, and a nice Cas & Jack father-son talk, because these dorks just straight up can't keep their hands off each other, ft the pay phone, maybe 'straight up' isn't the best phrase for these two though, s13 reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 01:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12570292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantheon_of_discord/pseuds/pantheon_of_discord
Summary: “Hello, Dean.”The phone clicks abruptly, and then there’s a dial tone in Castiel’s ear.Grimacing, Castiel hangs up the receiver and fishes for his final quarter. He should’ve known that would happen. Dean’s always had trouble with faith.





	Time Makes You Bolder

Castiel comes to in a picnic shelter. His eyes snap open abruptly and then he’s lying on his back, staring through twilight darkness at the old, wooden beams of the ceiling. They’re half-rotted, and they’re covered in dead leaves and cobwebs. They’re amazing.

The cement slab beneath his back is less amazing, so he reaches out to the seat of a nearby picnic bench and levers himself into a sitting position. The breeze that hits his face is cold and damp; it could be from an earlier bout of rain, or maybe just a heavy dew, but regardless, the air smells beautifully sharp and green, and he smiles.

A brief self-assessment confirms that he’s somehow, miraculously, intact. He’s not in any pain – save the slight ache from the concrete – and when he brings a hand to his chest, he finds that the wound from Lucifer’s blade is gone. Like it was never there.

And he supposes it wasn’t, exactly; this body is new. It’s still _him_ , but Jack – through whatever incomprehensible power – has given him new life, a new body. A new purpose, as well: fatherhood, among other things. The thought will take some getting used to, but Castiel finds he isn’t as scared by it as he once was.

He’s been given another chance, and this time he’s going to do things right.

Pulling himself all the way up, Castiel finally thinks to take stock of his surroundings. He appears to be in a park, but beyond that the area is completely unfamiliar. Peering through the darkness, he turns in place until a soft, yellow streetlight catches his eye. It’s set high against a tall, chain-link fence at the border of the field, and it’s illuminating a pay phone. Yes. A phone is what he needs. Instinctively, he pats his pockets for his cell phone, but then pauses.

Pockets. He has pockets. He glances down, and notes with some surprise that his clothes are different. Not entirely different, but still. He rolls his shoulders beneath the new, heavier coat, and smiles again. It feels good. The style is close to that of his old one, but it fits him in a way Jimmy’s never did.

Rightly so. This one’s _his_.

He resumes searching his pockets, but unfortunately he’s managed to come back without his phone. A thought occurs to him and he closes his eyes, concentrating until he manifests his blade. It slides down his arm, quick as it ever had, and when he holds it up to eye level it’s sharp and shining. Satisfied, he returns the blade to his sleeve. At the very least, his grace is accessible. He doesn’t seem to have anything else on him though, so he sets his jaw and starts scouring the ground for quarters.

Luckily, he finds one fairly quickly, half-buried in the fine gravel that borders the shelter’s cement pad. He has to search a lot longer for another, his boots sliding through glistening grass as he walks through the field.

Castiel’s eyes are raking the ground, so he doesn’t notice the little stone obelisk until he walks into it. It’s an old and weather-beaten war memorial, about shoulder-height, and it lists a dozen or so names. At the bottom is an inscription:

_“The Glorious Dead of Carpenter, Wyoming. 1941-1945”_

Good. Now he can tell Dean where he is.

Dean. Warmth shudders through him, curling out from his chest and lighting up every single cell in his body. He’s going to see Dean again.

Castiel finally spots a second quarter in the long grass at the base of the memorial, but after another few minutes of fruitless searching he concludes he won’t find another. He’ll have to hope two will be all he needs.

Heart beginning to pound against his ribcage, he makes his way back across the field and over to the pay phone. He notices his hands are trembling, and he marvels at that, _revels_ in it, as he dials Dean’s number.

The phone rings, once, twice, three times, and Castiel worries that Dean’s changed his number, or worse, he and Sam didn’t make it out of their confrontation with Lucifer, but then it picks up with a click.

“What?”

Castiel smiles to himself and sighs quietly. Dean sounds so tired, but he’s alive – still fighting, like always. The warmth that flowed through Castiel before flares bright again.

“I said _what_ ,” Dean repeats, voice threaded with irritation now, so Castiel swallows.

“Hello, Dean.”

The phone clicks abruptly, and then there’s a dial tone in Castiel’s ear.

Grimacing, Castiel hangs up the receiver and fishes for his final quarter. He should’ve known that would happen. Dean’s always had trouble with faith.

It occurs to him he doesn’t know how long it’s been. Time didn’t really exist in the Empty, and his heart sinks as he realizes it could well have been months, or even years, since Dean last saw him. Hands shaking once more, he slips in the coin, and dials again. This time there’s only half a ring before Dean answers.

“Who the _hell_ is this?” he growls without preamble.

“Don’t hang up,” Castiel says quickly. “I don’t have any more quarters.”

“Listen, whatever the _fuck_ you are, I don’t know how you got this number, but I swear I am gonna _end you_ for this. Calling me, sounding like _him_ –”

“It’s me, Dean,” Castiel says. “I made it back.”

There’s a beat. Then, “Bullshit.”

Castiel closes his eyes. “It’s really me, I promise. The _how_ is. . . complicated, and I don’t fully understand it myself –”

“Prove it,” Dean spits, cutting him off.

Castiel frowns. “How? I mean, if I was a shapeshifter, I would theoretically know the answer to any question you might ask. Although, perhaps not,” he muses thoughtfully. “I’m not sure if a shifter has ever tried to take the form of an angel. And well, I suppose I could be a demon –”

Dean makes a sound then, a choked-off kind of sob, so Castiel stops talking. Then there’s a rustling and shuffling, just audible under Dean’s heavy breathing; if Castiel had to guess, he’d say Dean’s just slid down a wall to sit on the floor.

“C- _Cas_.” Dean’s voice breaks, and Castiel’s heart with it.

“Yeah. It’s me.”

Dean doesn’t respond for a long while, but Castiel can hear the occasional quiet sniffling until he speaks again.

“‘M probably losing my mind,” Dean mumbles thickly. “Bound to happen sooner or later.”

Castiel shakes his head, despite knowing Dean can’t see him. “You’re not. At least, no more than usual,” he says, and then grins when he hears Dean give a low chuckle. “I’m alive. And I think I’m in Carpenter, Wyoming.”

“Why? I mean, how? I mean – god, this can’t be real.”

“It was mostly Jack, I think. And also, um, Billie,” he adds awkwardly.

“Billie, what –”

“I’ll explain, as much as I’m able. But first I need a ride,” Castiel says wryly.

Dean barks out a rather hysterical laugh. “Of course you do.”

“I want to come home, Dean.”

The laughter stops immediately, and Dean sucks in a sharp breath. There’s another long beat of silence before he finally chokes out, “What if you’re not real?”

“I’ll steal a car and drive to the bunker myself, if I have to.”

“No,” Dean says quickly. “No I’ll – I’m coming. You – you said Carpenter?”

“Yes,” Castiel says, glancing around for any identifying markers. Finding none, he shrugs. “A park. There’s a war memorial, if that helps.”

Dean clears his throat. “Okay. It’ll be a couple hours.”

Castiel nods. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Right,” Dean says, and Castiel’s about to hang up when Dean speaks again, voice barely more than a whisper. “Cas. . . promise you’re gonna be there?”

The warmth glows inside of him once more. “Yes, Dean. I promise.”

 

//

 

The next few hours crawl by. Castiel is half-certain that Dean won’t come, that he’s convinced himself he’d imagined the phone call. Or perhaps he and Sam will arrive and try to attack him, certain Castiel’s some kind of monster here to trick them.

Trying to push such thoughts from his mind, he spends another hour hunting for more change, but only comes up with a dime and a handful of pennies. He considers venturing out from the park, maybe trying to find a store or library with a phone, but it must be nearing midnight by now and everything is most likely closed. Besides, the park seems to be set away from the town’s centre, and Castiel doesn’t want to travel too far. He’d promised to be here when Dean arrives.

Eventually he finds himself standing out in the field, eyes pointed upwards. He’s always loved looking at the sky, but tonight it looks better than he’d remembered. The darkness is nearly total now, but it’s nothing like the flat, featureless void of the Empty. In fact, the night sky is a _riot_ of colour: varying shades of blue and purple freckled with white stars. For a while he tries to count them, tiny pinpricks of light that flicker and wink and move across the horizon as the hours pass. It’s incredible – the sky is almost _alive_.

The only noises for a long while are the wind and the odd chirp of a cricket, but finally Castiel hears the low, unmistakable rumble of the Impala approaching from the road, and he smiles. Who would have thought something so ordinary could become so familiar, and so comforting. Relief coursing through him, he turns away from the stars and starts walking toward the tiny gravel parking lot.

Castiel reaches the edge of the picnic shelter and waits, but then finally the Impala turns the corner and pulls into the lot. It comes to a stop but the headlights stay on, aimed directly at his face, so despite his squinting Castiel can’t see into the car. He stays where he is, waiting, heart thudding in his chest.

After almost a minute, the engine switches off. The headlights fade and Castiel can finally see through the windshield. Dean is alone in the car, and his eyes are locked on Castiel’s face. His expression is difficult to read at this distance, but nevertheless, Castiel can’t help but smile at him.

Dean looks at him a while longer, then the car door cracks open. He steps out slowly, leaving the door open, but doesn’t advance, simply keeps staring. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, and he keeps nervously licking his lips. Castiel wonders if he’s been crying; his eyes look a little glassy and his cheeks are blotchy and red.

Castiel nods. “I’m here.” It’s all he can think to say.

Dean’s eye grow a bit wider, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he reaches into his coat and pulls out an angel blade, and then slips a small, silver flask out of his pocket.

Of course, tests. Castiel nods again and takes a small step forward, holding out his hand.

Dean still doesn’t move though. His fingers fidget with the flask, but his eyes keep shifting back and forth between Castiel’s, searching.

“It’s really me,” Castiel says.

At that, Dean’s face just crumples. The blade and the flask both drop to the dirt with a thunk and a tinny rattle, and in the next instant he’s charging forward. Castiel takes a few steps to meet him, and then Dean’s arms are wrapping around his neck and shoulders, fingers curling into the hair at the base of his neck. Castiel grips him tight too, his own arms encircling Dean’s back. Just like the sky, it’s better than Castiel ever remembered. Dean is warm and solid, he smells like leather and sweat, and he’s holding onto Castiel like he never wants to let go.

His whole body is shaking, and he buries his face in Castiel’s shoulder. “Cas, _Cas_ , you were dead. You were _gone_ , man. I b– we _burned_ you and you were _gone_ –”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel murmurs, but Dean just squeezes him tighter. If Castiel were any less than an angel, he’s certain Dean would be choking him.

Keeping his face pressed to Castiel’s shoulder, Dean shakes his head. “Weeks, man, _weeks_ , and then you call, and I almost didn’t come. I stopped five miles outta town, almost turned around and drove home.” His voice is muffled and he’s babbling. “Still not sure I haven’t finally cracked.”

Relief floods through Castiel again; he hasn’t been gone that long after all. “I wasn’t sure how long it had been.”

Dean finally pulls away, moving his hands to rest on the tops of Castiel’s shoulders. Regretfully, Castiel drops his arms from Dean’s back, and then meets his eyes. There are tear tracks running down Dean’s face, but he tries to smile. “Yeah, like, three weeks. The worst three weeks of my fucking life.”

Castiel’s stomach twists. The feeling is mostly guilt, but there’s a horribly selfish bit of joy there too. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Just. . . how, Cas? How are you here?” Dean asks, shaking his head absently as he looks down to give Castiel a once-over. “I thought – god man, I thought that was it this time.”

Castiel gives him a half-smile and shrugs. “Jack. I don’t completely understand, but I think it was mostly him.”

There’s something unreadable in Dean’s eyes then, but he just nods.

Castiel searches his face. “And you’re alright?”

Dean chokes out a laugh. “I mean, assuming I’m not hallucinating right now, yeah, I’m amazing.”

“Good,” Castiel says, smiling. “And what about Sam? And your mother?”

The mirth drops from Dean’s face, and he looks away. “That’s um. . . that’s a long story. I’ll explain on the drive.” Castiel frowns, worry shooting through him, but when Dean looks up again he’s smiling softly. “You said you wanted to go home, right?”

Castiel glances one last time around the park, then sucks in the cold, night air and nods. “Yes.”

 

//

 

Dean keeps looking at him, every few seconds, the whole drive home. It’s like he’s afraid Castiel’s going to disappear if he turns away too long. There’s tension in his shoulders too, and his fingers stay gripped tight on the steering while, turning his knuckles white. After everything they’ve been through, Castiel can’t exactly blame him, but he still wishes he could erase the fear from Dean’s eyes.

He wishes he could reach across the bench and take Dean’s hand, perhaps slide in close so their shoulders press together. But even now, with this second chance (more like fourth or fifth chance, really), he doesn’t have the courage. Instead he talks, tells Dean about the Empty and his escape – as much as he can understand, anyway. And he listens as Dean, stilted and heartbroken, tells him about Mary and Lucifer, and about Jack, already fully grown and strong.

“We’ll get her back, Dean,” Castiel says, and the corner of his mouth tilts up. “Your mother is every bit the stubborn Winchester you are. If anyone can survive it over there, it’s her.”

Dean huffs, shaking his head.

“We _will_ ,” Castiel says.

Turning his head again, Dean finds his eyes and swallows. “Yeah. Okay, Cas.”

Encouraged, Castiel nods. “And Sam’s right. Perhaps Jack can open the door again.”

“Maybe. Kid’s got juice,” Dean allows. There’s awe in his voice, but Castiel can hear a trace of fear as well. “Sam’s been trying to help him get a hold on it, but. . .”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for him, to help him.”

Dean huffs a wet-sounding laugh. “You gotta stop that, man. Stop apologizing for stuff.”

“Well then, I’ll thank you,” Castiel says, and Dean once again turns to look at him, bewilderment on his face. “For looking after him, for taking care of him.”

“I haven’t,” Dean mumbles, looking back out the front window. “It’s all been Sammy. I. . . I’ve been a dick to Jack. I’ve been _worse_ than that, I just. . .” He swallows and shakes his head. “I’ve _hated_ him, Cas.”

“You’re angry.” Castiel nods in understanding. “You blame him. For Lucifer, and your mother.”

“For _you_ ,” Dean says insistently. “He got you ki –” Dean seems unable to finish the word, and briefly closes his eyes.

Castiel nods again, as the urge to reach out and touch Dean hits him once more. He clenches his fist at his side. “But he brought me back. Or he helped, at least,” Castiel says.

Dean turns to look at him, frowning.

Castiel shrugs. “I chose to come back. I _fought_ to. I’m not done yet.”

“Yeah. Good,” Dean says, and gives Castiel a shaky smile.

“I’ve got work to do,” Castiel says, glancing out the side window. “Jack needs me.”

“Not just Jack.”

Castiel looks back over and meets Dean’s eyes. He’s biting his lip, but his gaze is set and determined.

Words seem to be failing Castiel, so he simply nods. Dean nods back once, then looks out the front window again.

Heart pounding in his chest, Castiel finally reaches out, his hand inching tentatively across the space between them. Slowly, carefully, he places his palm on Dean’s shoulder, pressing down lightly.

Dean’s eyes drop closed for a moment, and when they open again his whole body sort of sags, tension leaving his shoulders and his hands loosening their grip on the wheel. He doesn’t look over at Castiel, but he nods again.

Smiling, Castiel looks forward through the windshield, and his thumb traces absent circles on Dean’s shoulder the rest of the drive home.

 

//

 

Dean leads the way into the bunker, Castiel a half-step behind as they move out onto the landing. The door shuts behind him with a clank, then Sam’s voice carries up from the library.

“Dean? Where the _hell_ did you go?”

Frowning, Castiel throws out a hand to Dean’s shoulder again, turning him around. “You didn’t tell him?”

Dean shakes his head, not meeting his eyes. “Told you. Thought I was nuts.”

“You’ve been gone all night, Dean, what –” Sam comes into view, stepping down into the war room, and then freezes mid-stride. His eyes go wide as saucers, and his jaw drops. “ _Cas_?”

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel says, a broad grin crossing his face.

Dean starts down the stairs and Castiel follows. When they reach the bottom Dean steps a little to the side, letting Castiel move past him, but Sam stays rooted in place. After a long, silent moment, he pulls his gaze away from Castiel’s face and looks at Dean. For some reason, he looks terrified.

“What did you _do_?” Sam whispers.

“Wasn’t me, Sam.” Dean shakes his head. “Promise.”

Sam looks at him doubtfully, so Castiel clears his throat. “It was Jack.”

“Jack?” Sam asks hollowly, looking back at Castiel.

“Yes. I’ll try to explain, but it really is –”

Sam steps forward abruptly and scoops Castiel up in a bone-cracking hug. Castiel hugs him back, an overwhelming fondness sweeping through him, as Sam laughs into his shoulder. “I knew it. Missed you, man.”

“You too,” Castiel says, stepping back as Sam releases him.

Unshed tears are shining in Sam’s eyes, but he’s grinning. “But Jack – _how_?”

“Why don’t we ask him?” Dean says.

Castiel looks around, and Dean inclines his head up to the library. Castiel follows his gaze, and then for the first time lays eyes on. . . on his son.

Jack is standing at the edge of the library steps, looking down at Castiel nervously. His shoulders are hunched, and one hand reaches across his body to grip his other arm. It’s like he’s trying to make himself smaller. With a not altogether unpleasant pang, Castiel recognizes it as a quirk of Sam’s.

Sam moves out of the way, and Castiel takes one small step forward; it seems he’s nervous as well. “Hello, Jack. You’ve, um. . . you’ve grown.”

Dean gives a small snort, and Jack’s eyes dart between him and Sam for a moment, then he slowly descends the stairs. “Hello. I’m. . . I’m glad you’re here,” he mumbles.

Love like he’s never felt swells in Castiel’s chest, and he doesn’t bother trying to fight his smile. This is the life he’d felt growing inside Kelly, pure and strong and _good_. Goodness that radiates off him now.

Stepping in close, Castiel carefully wraps his arms around Jack and squeezes gently. Jack, however, goes completely rigid, his arms staying just as they were, pressed awkwardly against Castiel’s chest.

When Castiel draws away, Jack is staring at him, eyes wide. He glances at Sam, then speaks down to the floor. “Excuse me, I have to go.” Then he turns on his heel and leaves the room, heading off down the kitchen hallway.

Anxiety churns in Castiel’s stomach as he watches Jack go, then he looks over to Sam and Dean. “What did I do?”

Dean’s staring intently at his shoes, but Sam looks stricken. “That’s. . .” Sam starts. “I think that’s the first time he’s ever been hugged.”

 

//

 

At Sam’s suggestion, Castiel finds Jack in his bedroom. He’s sitting on the floor in the corner, his back to the wall. Castiel steps into the room, but he keeps his distance this time. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”

“It’s okay,” Jack says, fingers fidgeting where they rest, propped up on his bent knees.

“Hugs take some getting used to,” Castiel says. “But I won’t do it again, if you don’t want.”

Jack nods. “I think you could. It was. . . nice.”

Smiling softly, Castiel takes another step forward and gestures to the wall beside Jack. “Do you mind if I join you?”

Jack shakes his head, so Castiel comes over and sits down beside him, leaving some space between them.

They sit in an awkward silence for a while, Jack’s eyes occasionally darting over, before returning to his fiddling hands.

“I want to thank you, Jack,” Castiel eventually says. “For reviving me. I’m grateful, more than you can understand.”

“It wasn’t – I think it was an accident,” Jack says. “I don’t know how I did it. But I was. . . lonely. And scared. And I. . . I _knew_ you needed to be here.”

Castiel nods, watching him. “I’m sorry you were scared. And I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you from the beginning.”

“But you’re here now, right?” Jack asks, anxious eyes finally meeting Castiel’s. “You’re going to stay here?”

Smiling, Castiel nods again. “Yes. And I don’t intend to leave.”

“That’s good,” Jack says fervently, and Castiel’s heart swells again. “Sam is. . . he’s trying, I think. But Dean hates me.”

“Dean is. . . Dean is a complicated person,” Castiel says, mindful of the understatement.

Jack sniffs. “The first time we met, he shot me.”

Despite himself, Castiel chuckles. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Really?” Jack asks, frowning at him. “Why?”

Castiel nods. “It’s – it’s difficult to explain,” he says.

Jack looks at searchingly, confusion plain in his expression.

Castiel grimaces. He’d assumed he would have more time to adjust to fatherhood, before having to answer such complicated questions. Casting his eyes up to the ceiling, he tries again. “Okay. Now, when you were scared, you looked for someone to help you. You reached across the dimensions and woke me up.” Jack nods, so Castiel continues. “When Dean is scared, he gets angry instead.”

Jack nods, slowly. “Sam said Dean needs to protect everyone.”

Castiel sighs. “Yes, that’s how he feels.”

“But it wasn’t just that this time,” Jack says, shaking his head. “He hates me because it’s my fault you died.”

“No, Jack. That _wasn’t_ your fault,” Castiel says forcefully.

Jack continues, ignoring him. “I heard him say it. I took you away from him, so I thought maybe if I brought you back, he wouldn’t hate me anymore. And he wouldn’t hurt so much.”

“I –” Castiel doesn’t know quite what to say to that. Thrown, he frowns.

“He was so sad. I could _feel_ it – and I could feel how much he loves you,” Jack says, and Castiel’s heart flips a few times.

Swallowing, Castiel looks away. “We’re. . . we’re family,” he says, even as his heart continues to flutter.

Jack shakes his head. “It felt different from how Sam was hurting. And how my Mom felt about me. I don’t understand it, but I know it’s the truth. He loves you. Very much.”

Jack nods, quite matter-of-factly, unaware he’s just turned Castiel’s entire life on its head. Castiel is still at a loss for words, so he merely nods dumbly, as the tingling warmth flooding his body returns in full force.

“Do you love him too?” Jack asks. He sounds genuinely curious.

“Yes,” Castiel says, before he can stop himself.

Satisfied, Jack nods again and stands. “That’s good. I hope he won’t be sad anymore.”

Still somewhat dazed, Castiel gets up too. “I – yeah, me too.”

Jack yawns then, and Castiel glance at the clock. It’s almost 4am.

“You should, um, get some sleep,” Castiel says. “If you do sleep, that is.”

“I do,” Jack says, eyes falling on his bed. “I like it, mostly.” He takes a step towards the bed, then turns his eyes back to Castiel sharply. “You said you’re going to stay, right?”

Castiel nods. “Yes, Jack. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Okay. Thank you,” he says, then climbs right into bed and closes his eyes.

Castiel stares at him a moment before heading to the door. He reaches out and flips the light switch, but leaves the door half open so some light from the hallway spills inside. Smiling to himself, Castiel watches him for a minute, then turns and heads off down the hallway.

He’s done with waiting, and he’s done with pushing his feelings down. This is his new life, and this time he isn’t going to waste his chance.

His heart is pounding in his chest as he brings up a fist to knock on Dean’s door. A vaguely muffled “Yeah” sounds from inside, so Castiel pushes it open and steps over the threshold.

Dean stands up from his bed as Castiel closes the door behind him. “Hey,” Dean says, eyes still showing a hint of disbelief when he looks at Castiel. “You talk to him?”

“Yes,” Castiel says, then without another word strides across the room. Dean’s face registers confusion for a moment and he takes half a step backwards, but then Castiel crowds him up against the wall, hands coming up to frame his face. Dean makes a small sound of surprise, but it’s swallowed in the next instant as Castiel leans in and presses their lips together.

Dean freezes and inhales sharply through his nose, so Castiel pulls back a little to let him adjust. The instant they separate though, Dean’s chasing after him, kissing him back as his own hands come up and mirror Castiel’s, broad and hot against his cheeks. Castiel moans softly, and Dean slips his tongue into his mouth.

They kiss, fast and heated, until Dean has to break away for air. “Damn it, _damn it_ , Cas –”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel whispers against his lips, dizzy and panting as well. “I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry –”

“Shut up, Cas, shut _up_.” Dean pulls him in again, fingers now pushing through Castiel’s hair.

Shivering, Castiel kisses him deeply, then drops his own hands down to Dean’s hips, shoving him roughly back against the wall. The weapons on the shelf above Dean’s bed rattle.

Dean groans into his mouth, then brings one hand down to start fumbling clumsily with Castiel’s belt. He eventually gets it undone and shoves his hand inside, gripping Castiel firmly and stroking him to hardness. It’s perfect, his palm so hot, and Castiel is nearly overcome with sensation. Wanting to give this feeling to Dean as well, Castiel reaches down past the waistband of Dean’s sweatpants to find his cock.

Gasping, Dean wrenches his mouth away. Castiel needs to keep kissing him, though, so he leans in and starts mouthing at the skin of his neck, tasting salt. “God, I missed you, Cas. I was outta my damn _head_.” Dean’s voice is anguished, even as he groans and rocks his hips forward into Castiel’s fist. “I never thought – never thought I’d have you, not like this –”

“You have me,” Castiel says roughly, panting, as Dean’s thumb gives a skillful pass along the head of his cock. “All of me, always.”

Dean chokes out a moan and brings their lips together again.

It’s over for them both fairly quickly after that. Their hands move rapidly and then they come together, or very nearly, mouths sealed and hips jerking.

Slowly, Castiel leans away enough their eyes can meet, and for a long moment they just look at one another, waiting for their breathing to even out. Dean is beautiful like this; his lips are kiss-bitten and there’s a pink flush in his cheeks.

Eventually Dean’s eyes flutter closed, and he withdraws his hand from Castiel’s pants and pulls him in so their foreheads rest together. “Now I’m _really_ sure I’m imagining this,” he mutters.

Castiel pulls his own hand free as well, then tips his head forward and kisses Dean again, softly. “I’m here. And I’m staying.”

It's the truth. Finally, after years of confusion and pain, Castiel knows with utmost certainty where he belongs. Where he needs to be.

Dean leans his head back and opens his eyes again. He studies Castiel a moment, before he swallows and nods. “Okay. Hang on,” he says, then gently pushes past Castiel and walks over to his sink.

He rinses his own hands, then wets a washcloth and brings it back over to Castiel, wiping it gently over his come-sticky hand. “Lose these,” he says, fingers plucking at Castiel’s coat.

Once Castiel has stripped down to his boxers, Dean flips off the light switch and guides him into the bed. Their legs tangle beneath the blankets, and Dean tucks his head into Castiel’s neck, sighing, before dropping a light, chaste kiss to his shoulder. “I need you to be here when I wake up, okay?” Dean says, voice already slurred with sleep. “I need this to be real.”

Castiel pulls Dean in, as close as he can. “Sleep, Dean. I’ll be here.”

Dean drifts off a few minutes later, sleep smoothing out the lines in his face. Castiel holds him tight but doesn’t close his own eyes for an instant, opting instead to count the freckles dotting Dean’s skin. Somehow, it’s even better than counting stars.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading friends. 
> 
> I'm ready for Cas to be back now, mmmkay?
> 
> I'm on the [tumblrs.](https://pantheonofdiscord.tumblr.com)


End file.
